


A Peek Under the Hat

by liralenli



Category: Bleach
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-24
Updated: 2014-03-24
Packaged: 2018-01-16 20:08:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 438
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1360159
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/liralenli/pseuds/liralenli
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Shunsui takes a nap.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Peek Under the Hat

**Author's Note:**

> This was written in 2009, well before the last arc of the Bleach series, when all Kyoraku was was the drunken Captain of the 8th Division. I wrote it because I was kind of put off by him, and I really needed to know him before I started writing _Twin Souls_.

To everyone else in Soul Society Kyouraku Shunsui slept on the roof of the Eighth Division.

To Shunsui, that sentence conveyed nearly nothing of what his experience was on that roof.

For him, the rough edges of the warm roof tiles cut reassuringly into regular intervals along his back, arms, and legs. They lent an illusion of solidity, stability under the delicious delirium of the open sky all above him and all around him. After two thousand years of building, honing, and empowering his reiatsu, it was the easiest way to rest. Even quiescent, it was powerful enough, on the ground, to bring the moods, humors, and murderous rages from everyone within miles to him. Up on the roof, he could sleep and allow the ghost of his powers to ribbon up into the air, and only lend him dreams of swift flight, slow moving clouds, or the patient fall of life-giving sun.

The pink over-kimono reflected most of the sun's heat, allowing nothing but the kiss of warmth through. Breezes played through his hat, caressing his hair. Sometimes flowers or leaves would fall to rest upon him, their faint weight, their quiet calm resignation to withering made good company. From here he could hear just the faint sounds of the laughter and banging on the practice grounds, the cheerful chatter of the Eighth Division as it ate its meals, and he relished their youth and enthusiasm.

Inside his head, his heart there were the two parts of his soul, each doing what came naturally to them. The one bone god, demon god laughed and rolled and counted the bones of every companion lost, everyone he had defended which had died, every enemy rolled to dust, every life lost as his own life rolled on. There were reasons why Shunsui drank when he was awake. The other sang or wept poetry of all the transient beauties of life, of two thousand springs of lost cherry blossoms, two thousand falls of dying leaves, two thousand winters of flying snow, and two thousand summers of cicadas lost when summer was gone. It celebrated and mourned the countless beauties and pleasures of life that lasted less than a night, less than his life. There were reasons why Shunsui made love, buried himself in sensuality as if his life depended on it.

With all that in his head, it might, or might not, be forgiven that he'd forgotten, yet again, the staff meeting at 10 am. And so, Kyouraku Shunsui spent his morning up on the roof, napping up in the sunshine and open air, and no one else was the wiser.


End file.
